Insane and Inhumane
by lezonne
Summary: Draco Malfoy once told her she was the guinea-pig for a new generation of Unforgiveable curses. After battling with herself for as long as possible, Hermione can't stop herself from moving from stealing to killing. And he's standing in the background, laughing as she suffers. Written for the Imperius Challenge on LJ and the Your Favorite Hogwarts House Boot Camp.


**A/n: **Originally written for the HP-DarkArts: Imperius Challenge 2013 on LJ. Also written for the Favorite Hogwarts House Boot Camp prompt #39 on FF. Edited by my amazing beta **lozipozivanillabean! **Enjoy :)

* * *

**Part of Original Posting:**

**Title**: Insane and Inhumane

**Pairing(s)/Character(s)**: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary**: Draco Malfoy once told her she was the guinea-pig for a new generation of Unforgiveable curses. After battling with herself for as long as possible, Hermione can't stop herself from moving from stealing to killing. And he's standing in the background, laughing as she suffers.

* * *

She knew it was wrong, she really did. Every time she took something, she felt that pull in her stomach telling her to put it back, turn herself in, but she never could. She was held down by its power, enslaved by the darkness it left in her soul each time she committed a crime. Sometimes she wondered if the thoughts she had were even hers anymore, but she couldn't recall the last time she felt sane. It was too long ago.

A long time ago, back before the war ended. He was there, always there, haunting her dreams. He left his mark on her, scarring her for the rest of her life. But she never shared her secret, for she didn't want her friends worrying. She didn't want to cause more grief, even if there were others like her prowling around Britain, unable to control themselves.

Hermione knew she was better off than others. Some people couldn't control what they did at all, and they were the first ones to be placed in the new asylum. The new Minister Arthur Weasley named it "Aider Asylum", after the French word for help. It was fitting, since most of the people there needed it. While she often committed petty theft some people were off raping and killing people, mutilating bodies and ruining the graves of the fallen. Her condition was not as bad as it could be.

Nonetheless, she wasn't who she once was. And it was all his fault. She blamed him for everything. There were many spells thrown her way during the war that would've caused insanity, loss of sight and other horrors, but his spell was the only one she didn't recognise. And when he cast it, his voice was more troubled and shaky than any other Death Eater's ever was. It was as though he didn't want to inflict this on her.

But he did. Oh, he did. And now she was trying to put right and wrong together in her mind, blurring the lines between them. She tried to be good after the war, but it was hard when she was drawn to stealing so often.

Hermione hated him more than she hated anyone. He changed her in a way she couldn't quite control. And she feared she would only get more out of hand the longer the spell sat inside her, seeping into her bones. Her biggest fear was ending up like the rest of them.

"I won't be them," she whispered, tucking the new necklace she'd just obtained into her pocket. Quite skilled with a wand, Hermione had an easier time than most stealing things. It was almost as though she wasn't even trying some days. Sometimes she just stole without even thinking about it, from straws at work to jewelry that she could pocket at the markets.

But one thing was certain; she wasn't losing herself quite yet. She was still able to stop herself from breaking into buildings to steal things, but she wondered how long she could keep that up. Someday, she would give in and do it. She just didn't want it to be anytime soon.

If her friends noticed anything, they had yet to mention it. The war was only over six months ago, and people still mourned the dead whilst trying to rebuild their world. These were troubling times, and although Hermione had a better standpoint on things than most she couldn't help feeling like a traitor. Her crimes were minimal but crimes nonetheless. And she had to learn to stop it.

Then, she ran into _him_.

Saying she ran into him was a bit extreme. It was more like she saw him from across the street one day and almost tackled him to the ground. He was the caster of this spell, the very spell that now altered her in ways she didn't care for. He out of everyone would have answers.

She really wanted to jump him, a desperate urge kicking in inside of her to tackle him and demand that he fix her, using whatever means necessary to obtain what she desired. He eluded her since that fateful night, and she would not lose him again.

He spent too much time inside his home, hiding from the world that now cast him aside as a traitor, hypocrite and murderer. Everyone knew he only journeyed out when absolutely necessary and she would not lose her chance to question him. It might be the only chance she got. After all, the Manor is practically impenetrable.

Slinking through the throng of people she watched him, more alert than she'd been in a while, even when she stole. Following his bobbing blonde head she was able to tell when he veered off into a side street, slipping a hood over his head. She made quick work following him, catching the blonde off guard as he walked. She stepped quietly up to his slow-moving form, whipping out her wand to aim at him at the same moment that he spun around, his own angled her way.

They stood like that, inhaling and exhaling sharp breaths, eyes glaring into each other. His slated, blank expression didn't change as they faced off, and remained just as neutral and passive as it always had, even when he cursed her.

Hermione however, couldn't control her anger towards him. "Expelliarmus!" she cried, using the simplest spell she could think of. He let his wand fly away without batting an eye, still staring at her with a blank expression. She got closer now that he was defenseless, rashly shoving her wand into his throat, attacking his jugular. He still said nothing.

"You owe me," she spat, arm shaking slightly at the fury within. "Look what you did to me!"

"I see that the lioness finally grew some nails," he drawled, unmoved by her display of emotion. "You might be an excellent duelist Granger, but you lack any actual fury."

"I'll show you fury!" She blasted him backward before she could help herself, watching his body slam into the brick wall a few feet away. He slumped against the structure, groaning at the impact. Hermione's anger disappeared for a moment and she took a step back, looking down at her hands.

She didn't mean to actually fire at him. That wasn't her!

"You're not adapting very well," he commented, gingerly rubbing his head. "Or perhaps you're adapting too well for your own good. As you've seen, the others have already guaranteed themselves a place in Aider. You should be in the same place by now. You're only a danger out here in the real world, lingering among others. They will be hurt in time the longer you ignore what you've become."

"I haven't become anything!" she cried, angling her wand in his direction again. "I'm not crazy!"

"I beg to differ," the blonde said, never once smirking. He held his arms out as though to prove his point. "You did just propel me back into a wall for no particular reason. That doesn't seem like a rational thing Hermione Granger would do."

"Shut up Malfoy," she snapped, looking briefly at the ground. Her arms shook, and she had to pause for many moments in order to calm herself.

She slowly made her way to a sitting position, knees bent up towards her body. He sat motionless on the other side of the narrow path, their dispute uninterrupted thus far. At length she looked up, and he attempted to ignore the fear in her watery orbs.

"What did you _do_ to me?"

"It's not what I did!" he defended, for the first time showing emotion. He looked a bit alarmed that she thought this was all his fault, which was funny, since he was the original caster. "It's what I had to do."

"But you did this to me," she said again, her voice lacking impact now. "You cast this spell, you made me lose my mind. Without your influence nothing would be wrong with me!"

Draco remembered the time all too well when he did this to her. When he raised his wand and cast a whole new brand of unforgivable curses on an unsuspecting girl, who was being tormented to the brink of death in front of him. And then he went against his morals under pressure, and bestowed eternal problems for his former classmate.

"You think I had a choice?" he asked, tilting his head to the right. He looked at her, silver eyes turning dark as his expression morphed into a glare. "Granger, you're fucking stupid. I haven't had a choice of what to do with my actions in a long time. Everything I did, I did to save my own skin."

"And you sacrificed mine," she whispered, shaking her head. "Do you understand what's going to happen to me?!"

"Do you understand what's going to happen to you?" he challenged, crossing his arms. "You're insanity obviously hasn't peeked yet, because you haven't yet tried to kill me. I cast the spell weakly on you, and it'll probably take longer to take effect than others. You were the guinea pig, the test subject for some of Voldemort's newest creations. Dear Aunt Bella had me try things out on you that day. She wanted to see how you reacted, what would happen, and whether or not I would actually do it. But I did."

"And now it's my burden," she snapped, crossing her arms. "Just so you could be considered worthy in your bloody Lord's eyes."

He shrugged, flicking his hand to bring his wand back to him. "How does it feel to know that you're going to lose yourself Granger, and that you're helpless to do anything about it?"

"I can fight this," Hermione replied with a scoff, refusing to look back at him. "I've done it for a little over a year now."

"You're visit to my home wasn't quite that long ago. It hadn't quite been a year yet. You've coped well so far, I suppose, but not good enough. Eventually the curse will win out and you'll be put in the nuthouse with the rest of the loony's. Of course, once someone like you ends up there I'm sure everything will be upped to find a solution to the problem. They wouldn't let the brightest witch of our time sit around rotting in an asylum, would they?"

The brunette shook her head slowly, convincing herself that she couldn't believe a word he said. "You really won't help me?"

"Why would I? I just got myself out of an Azkaban sentence; I don't need another for being close to you and letting people's imaginations wander. I'm perfectly happy staying far away from you and minding my own business."

"I wish I could obliviate your memory from my mind," she spat, finally looking back towards him. He only raised an eyebrow in mild interest. "I wish I could forget that we ever went to school together! At least then you'd be a stranger in my memories, someone with no attachment to me whatsoever. Maybe then this wouldn't be such a slap in the face."

"What? Do you feel betrayed or something Mudblood? News-flash: we're not friends. Never have been, never will be."

Hermione felt her anger boil up and before she knew what was happening she shouted out a spell, watching with horror as a cut dashed across Malfoy's face on the right side, leaving a bloody mark. She inhaled sharply, staring at his liquid silver eyes.

She couldn't have just done that. She would never do that!

"I see the curse is strengthening as we speak. You're slipping faster than I thought Granger."

"I hate you!"

"I know," he replied, smirking for the first time. He was on his feet in a moment, wiping the blood from his cheek onto the sleeve of his jacket, leaving a red smear. "That's going to leave a nasty stain you know."

"Oh the woes of being a Malfoy," she spat, anger bubbling. He was no help whatsoever, and still embodied the arrogant, cocky attitude he had when they were teenagers. How he reverted so easily back to his old self after the war escaped her.

"Now Granger," he continued, pulling out his wand. "I hope you understand something." A quick flip of his wrist had her slipping and falling down on her stomach, brown eyes glaring up at him. "I'm not going to help you, as there is nothing I can do. There are no counter-curses thus far that will change what the curse is doing to you. Day by day the poison will continue to eat you, swallow you, destroy you. You're going to lose yourself, turning into another crazy that doesn't know how to do anything humane. It's the way the curse works."

"You're lying."

"Am I?" he challenged, twirling his wand and she tried to aim a spell his way. He deflected it, smirking again. "It's already happening, you just won't accept it. You'll change slower, but it's inevitable. I give you another six months maximum before you end up in Aider."

She lashed out at him, but the blonde, thinking much more rationally, saw her attack coming and evaded her easily. She got to her feet but he was faster, knowing her wand was out of her hand, and cast it over to the other side of the wall where she had to go and retrieve it.

"Don't be too upset Granger. You should feel honored. Someday, the Healer's will use you as a guinea pig again, to test and see if their treatments work. You'll be a breakthrough in the world of healing, else you'll die without any logical memories. You should start praying it's not the latter."

Hermione made to rush him, too angry to go and try to retrieve her wand, but the blonde smirked, predicting her moves. In a whirl of his cloak and a plume of smoke he was gone, leaving the angry woman all alone. She fell to her knees, beating at the earth, cursing up a storm. Now he was gone, and she would likely be unable to contact him again.

"I hate you Malfoy. I hate you. Just take the memories of our past away! Change me back!" She wept, falling on her side in the dirt. And deep inside her, the dark magic continued to work its way through her.

* * *

"You have a visitor Miss Granger." She didn't look up at the sound of the man's name, her head feeling too heavy and her eyes hurting too much. She hated the light, the sound of voices, and especially when people bothered her. She wanted to be all alone where people wouldn't poke and probe at her, trying to figure out what was wrong.

She'd been there almost two months. After her encounter with Malfoy she tried to fight off the urge to commit crimes. And when she finally gave into that new urges sprouted up, varying from stealing larger objects to killing. It took almost six more months after her exchange with Malfoy to finally land her a spot in Aider, and now there she sat, wasting away like the loony she had been labeled as.

Deep down, she hated him for being right.

"If you asked them to open the curtains you'd have more colour," he drawled, causing her head to slowly lift up. For the first time in six months she looked someone straight in the eye, watching her memories flood back into her mind's eye. There he stood, the cocky, arrogant bastard smirking down at her carrying a fucking bouquet of flowers, as though mocking her. He grinned, placing the flowers in the only empty vase.

How dare he come here? She was trying so hard to forget!

But forgetting how she got here was impossible, as it was the only thing she thought about day-in and day-out. Those scared silver eyes staring down at her as she lay on the floor of Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix Lestrange bent over her, pinning her to the ground as Malfoy said those awful, terrible words in a shaky, uncertain voice. The words that slipped from his tongue and turned her into this hideous, insane person she now was.

His eyes, once so innocent now held knowledge of horrors and betrayal from the time of the war, from the time he cast one of the new Unforgiveables on a person. That alone should've landed him in Azkaban, yet he eluded prison like a fly to a net, never getting caught.

She envied him; he was sane.

She hated him; he had freedom and he was at fault for what happened.

She wanted to forget him. The troubled teenager from Hogwarts was gone, replaced by a cold-blooded man who would do anything at all to save those he loved. Literally, anything. He gave up her life to save his parents that fateful day, two people who didn't even live to the end of the war.

Yet she had, and she was the one being punished after all the good things she did. Why was she punished so?

"Should I get you some water? I hear it's hard to drink with ones arms bound like that?"

Hermione shook her head, not quite understanding what he wanted but knowing that she couldn't let him get close to her. She didn't want him in that room.

"Leave," she said in a shaky voice, refusing to look up.

He chuckled. "You need some company Mudblood. Potter and Weasley are too ashamed to come by anymore."

"Let me be. I don't like you."

"Oh, Granger, I don't like you either. I only tolerate you."

Slowly, she raised her head, daring to look at him, pleading with her eyes. "Please… make me forget… everything. You… everything."

He smirked, approaching her in long strides. Hermione attempted to recoil as he pat her head, chuckling to himself. "Begging, aye? Gee Granger, how the mighty have fallen."

She knew that she was once mighty, but couldn't put together in her mind why she was. More than anything, even forgetting, she wanted to jump on him and tear him apart, rip him limb from limb.

The curse was thinking again, taking over her mind. She didn't like when that happened. Meeting her eyes, she tried again. "Please…"

He smirked, patting her head once more before he brought a seat over, sitting directly in front of her. "I don't think so Granger… you're going to remember me forever. I will not obliviate my memory from your head."

She felt the last shred of her sanity slipping away. All she wanted was to forget…

Draco Malfoy was the most awful person in the world. And in her eyes, he deserved to die.

Maybe someday if she ever got out, she would repay him for what he had done. But first, she had to get out.

If only she could still formulate plans…

* * *

_~FIN~_


End file.
